


A Friend in Need

by katwalking



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, F/M, Intoxication, going down on awesome ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katwalking/pseuds/katwalking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PK goes out clubbing with some of the boys and finds herself in want of a little nightcap.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friend in Need

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to combine my love of PK with my desire for fic about Carey going down on awesome ladies and this is what happened.

Carey’s cell phone is vibrating. Why? Everyone should be fucking asleep at this hour. He slings out an arm to the nearby night stand, groping in the darkness, and nearly tips over a glass of water before he manages to snag his phone and drag it to his face. There’s a text from PK.

_Are you awake_

PK rarely bothers with punctuation, annoying fucker. Carey scowls and taps out. _I am now._

The reply is instant. _Good come over_

_No._ Carey drops the phone in the covers beside him and rolls back over to stare at the wall. He starts a mental countdown; the phone rings before he gets to 5. He sighs, too much to wish for a peaceful night, and lifts the phone to his ear. “What, PK?”

“Carey,” she says, long and drawn out. “Pricey, baby. Come see me.” Her words are soft, the edges round. Carey knows without a shadow of a doubt she’s drunk as hell.

“Are you drunk?” He asks, already sitting up in bed and trying to remember where he left his shoes.

“So drunk,” PK says. She sounds delighted. “I was thinking about you.”

Carey grunts. The phone is pressed between his shoulder and ear as he struggles into some sweat pants. 

“A guy offered to go down on me at the bar.” PK giggles. “I told him no thanks, but” she sounds contemplative as she continues, “sounds like a good way to end the night.”

“Fuck.” Carey knocks his ankle into the bedpost pulling on a sock. It’s almost physical the memory of PK’s hands in his hair, the curve of her ass in his hands. 

“Are you coming over?” PK asks. “I don’t want to have to call Prusty.” 

Carey hangs up on her, barely pausing to tie his shoes and grab his coat before heading out the door.

The drive to PK’s place is short. Once PK was sure she was going to spend extended time in Montreal, she’d asked Carey for pointers about the best places to live. Carey gave her the name of his real estate agent and a list of English speaking neighborhoods. Unsurprisingly, she ended up in a tidy little house a few streets away from him.

He rings the doorbell and leans in to listen to the sounds of PK tripping her way to the door. She opens the door with an oversized sweater hangs off one shoulder, skimming the tops of her toned thighs. PK’s smiling, grin plumping her cheeks. Her hair is pulled back in a curly ponytail; her preferred style when she’s not doing publicity. Carey frowns at her. “You didn’t ask who was at the door.”

PK rolls her eyes and tugs him inside. “I was expecting you, Pricey.” She locks the door behind them and launches herself into his arms. Carey catches her with an oomph. PK is solid, muscular and thick. Her waist only looks tiny in relation to her ass. Carey’s hands settle, automatic, at the dip of her waistline, fingers spreading out over the generous curve of her hips. “Hi,” PK says. She smells like sugar and alcohol.

“Hi,” Carey says, dryly. “Why aren’t you naked?”

PK pushes up on her tiptoes until her nose touches his and says seriously, “It could have been a stranger at the door.” 

Carey kisses her. She huffs a little into his mouth, laugh smothered, before kissing back. She tastes like brightly colored cocktails. 

“Come on, come on.” PK tugs at his sweat pants futilely until Carey reaches down and pulls the knot out of the drawstring. She makes a happy noise when they drop down around his knees. Carey toes out of his shoes and socks, kicks free of his pants. 

Before PK purchased her house, she would hang out at Carey’s during their free time, rolling around on his couch in bicycle shorts and watching Carey watch her. Waiting. Once she moved into her house, she bought the same overstuffed couch to roll around on. She pushes Carey backwards until the back of his legs meet the couch and he falls.

She crawls into his lap and wrestles his t-shirt over his head. “Free balling, Pricey?” She’s perched over his thighs and looking down between their bodies at his bare cock, hard and listing to the side. 

He rolls his eyes. “You called me in the middle of the night and demanded head, PK. Why bother with underwear.” Her lips part slightly and Carey leans up to nip at the bottom one. PK chews on it constantly, during practice, tape review, interviews. Carey’s been embarrassingly distracted more than a few times. “Still not naked,” Carey says and squeezes her ass. She’s bare beneath his hands but as he strokes upward, his fingers catch on a thin band of fabric. He pops it like a rubber band and she jumps.

“Ow,” PK says, belatedly, and pinches his nipple in retaliation. Carey shrugs her hands away and carefully frees her from her sweater. He takes a moment to look at her. PK’s breasts aren’t very big, something she complains about constantly, but Carey adores them. They sit small and high on her chest, perky.

Carey places a kiss on her sternum and PK whines in frustration. She grabs a handful of his hair when he laughs and steers him forcibly to her nipple. He obligingly mouths around it, takes the time to flick her teasingly with his tongue. He glances up to find her staring at him, eyes narrowed. PK shakes her head a little when she notices his attention and uses her grip on his hair to tilt his head back. 

“You’re not playing nice,” she says, words slurring just a bit.

“I’m always nice to you, PK,” Carey says. He leaves his mouth open when he finishes and urges her higher up on her knees. This time when her nipple brushes his mouth, he sucks it in. Closes his teeth around her and draws in quick succession. The way she cries out and clutches at him makes his dick throb. 

The couch cushions exhale when Carey tips PK to the side and follows her down, a soft swish of air being displaced. PK squirms beneath him, thighs cradling his hips. Carey grinds once against the flimsy barrier of her thong before drawing back. She makes protesting noises, but Carey reminds her, “You wanted my mouth.”

“Yeah,” PK says, but she’s still rocking against his dick instead trying to get naked. 

“Up for me,” Carey says and PK lifts her hips. He makes quick work of her thong, peeling it down over her hips. Once Carey has her bare, she lets her legs fall open. Carey slides a hand up the back of one thigh, gropes her ass a little, before tilting her up for his mouth. He notices almost absently that her pubic hair is shaped into thin racing stripe rather than the more elaborate star design she’d maintained over the last month. 

PK nudges at him. “Stop staring and-“ Carey drops his head and licks at her before she can finish whining. “Yeah,” she says, breathless, and her thighs tense and relax around his shoulders.

From there it’s all slick heat and the sound of PK’s hitching moans in his ears. Carey keeps a palm low on her stomach, right above her pelvis, likes to feel the clench-release of her abs when she rolls her hips up and humps against his mouth. Her rhythm goes jerky quickly; PK’s easy when she’s tipsy. 

“Yeah,” she says again, “like that, Pricey.” Carey seals his lips around her clit and sucks softly, tongue worrying at her. PK’s hips rise from the couch, “Ah, ah, ah,” falling from her mouth and Carey fucks against the couch cushions as she comes apart beneath his mouth.

Carey kneels up when PK goes from clutching his hair to hold him close to pushing him away with fingertips on his forehead. She stays sprawled out, one knee bent against the back of the couch and her other foot on the floor. There’s sweat gathered at PK’s collarbones, between her breasts and her inner thighs are wet. “Fuck, PK,” Carey says, staring down at her, stupid with desire. He wraps a hand around his cock, squeezing hard at the base.

PK licks her lips. “Go on,” she says and Carey jerks it over her flat stomach, aims at the shallow cup of her belly button when he comes. PK laughs at him and touches a finger to the little pool. “You’re so dirty, Pricey. I should make you lick it up.”

“Mmm,” Carey says, folding slowly over her body. He presses a kiss to the side of her jaw and sucks her earlobe. “My tongue’s tired.”

Giggles shake PK’s body and she loops an arm around his neck and kisses him. She’s practically speaking into Carey’s mouth when she says, “Thanks for coming over.”

“Anytime,” Carey says, because, apparently, it’s true.


End file.
